Bloodfeud (The Scarlet Star Trilogy Book 3) (11 page)

The man spent a while in silence, perhaps in thought. All the while his gaze switched between his two captors, gauging them, measuring them; calculating and disturbingly calm. He seemed no stranger to blades or guns. He barely seemed to sweat. When he finally answered, his voice was slow, measured, and even gruffer than before.

‘My name is Dower Gunderton. I’m here to find your nephew, Lady Hark.’

Lilain squatted down to bring her face level with Gunderton, as dangerous as the finger on her trigger. ‘That’s Ms Rennevie to you. And you’ll forgive me if that doesn’t fill me with much confidence. Most people who come looking for my nephew have either tried to kill him or rob him. Or both. And I’m tired of it.’

‘I’m not here to do either.’

‘Then what do you want with him?’

Gunderton tilted his head. ‘To keep him safe.’

‘And what are you to him?’

A shrug. ‘Just a memory, most likely.’

Lurker swapped a confused glance with Lilain. ‘You’re talkin’ riddles, man! Speak plainly.’

‘I looked after him when he was younger. I worked for his father, your brother, Ms Rennevie. I’m here to find him, and to make sure he’s kept out of harm’s way. Dizali’s way, if I’m being honest. As Karrigan would have wanted.’ Whoever he was, he seemed to know what he was talking about. Lurker humoured him.

‘You’re a bit late, ain’t you?’ he grunted. ‘Where were you when Cirque Kadabra turned to blood and bullets?’

He almost missed it, but there was definitely a flash of annoyance in the man’s face. ‘I was delayed.’

Lurker knew there was more behind that reply, but he knew better than most how some secrets needed time to show their heads in the sunlight.

‘Well, you’re out of luck, Mr Gunderton. Merion’s gone,’ Lilain told him, standing upright and rolling her neck. The pistol stayed fixed on the man.

‘Where is he?’ Gunderton asked, concerned all of a sudden. Act or truth, Lurker wasn’t sure.

Lurker looked to Lilain, who nodded. ‘Gone to London. On Lincoln’s own ship.’

Gunderton tried to get to his feet, but the prospector put a firm hand on his shoulder. ‘You ain’t goin’ nowhere yet, Mr Gunderton. Stay still, or I’ll—’

The man ripped Lurker’s hand from his shoulder and twisted the wrist viciously, forcing him to his knees with a cry. In the same movement, he swiped the Mistress from Lilain’s hand and kicked her shins from under her. In the time it took to blink, they both found themselves on the ground, wide-eyed and speechless. Gunderton’s thumb lingered on the hammer of the Mistress for a brief moment, and then, to their surprise, he spun the pistol in the palm of his hand, and pointed the handle towards Lilain. ‘I’m not here to fight you.’

Gunderton stepped back as Lilain snatched away the pistol and dusted herself off. Lurker picked up his knife and for a moment he considered giving this man a taste of his own medicine, but he’d already been embarrassed twice today and he didn’t much fancy making it three times.

‘Are you positive he’s gone to London?’ Gunderton asked. He definitely seemed concerned.

‘Unless King Lincoln is a liar, then yes, I’m positive!’ spat Lilain.

‘Why do you care?’ Lurker asked.

Gunderton sniffed. ‘Because Karrigan would want me to. I owe that man a great many things.’

‘A man only makes amends when he has something to make amends for,’ said Lilain.

Gunderton didn’t know what to make of that. He ran a couple of fingers through his beard and looked up as a droning airship lazily cast a shadow over them. ‘It seems I wasted a trip,’ he grumbled, voice fading into an irritated mumbling. Something about staying put in London.

Lilain sighed. ‘The boy thinks he can take care of this mess all by himself and keep us out of harm’s way in the process. Well he’s being darn silly about it, and so we’re going to London to set him straight. So if you truly are looking out for Merion, then perhaps we should travel together. Merion won’t trust you without us, should you even manage to find him.’

‘Found you, didn’t I? I’ve tracked more people down than you’ve cut open, Ms Rennevie,’ Gunderton replied, sounding proud. ‘And I travel alone.’

Lilain tutted. ‘Not any more you don’t.’ She pointed the way back to the main thoroughfare ‘Now move it, Mister.’

Gunderton took a few moments to realise he wasn’t getting rid of this stubborn woman. He shrugged, muttered some more, and then began to walk. Lilain holstered the Mistress and followed him, one yard behind. Lurker hovered close at her shoulder.

‘You sure about this, Lil?’

‘Not one bit.’

‘Then we’re takin’ a risk we don’t need. He could have sold us a clever lie.’

‘What was it my brother once said to me? Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer. If he is another of Dizali’s men, then we’ll have him within reach, won’t we?’ Lilain’s eyes flicked to the knife still lingering in Lurker’s hand.

Lurker couldn’t deny the logic, even though he didn’t like it. ‘You’re a clever one, Lilain Rennevie. You know that?’

One of Lilain’s eyebrows rose slightly. ‘Of course,’ she said, before patting the grizzled prospector on the shoulder. ‘Come on.’

*

Airships seemed to be far more expensive than your average seafaring craft. Any old bucket with a solid hull could ply the roiling waves of the Iron Ocean, if it was so inclined. But, as their captains knew, airships were faster and slicker.

One such captain stood before them. She seemed to be mostly comprised of fur coat; a curious choice given the sweltering heat between the white-painted buildings of the airship port. The coat must have been purloined from a large animal; it fell from her shoulders and brushed the dusty flagstones with every twitch. A thick badge was sewn into its breast, bearing the name “Skyhorse Coats”. A slim black cigarette, barely smouldering, seemed to be screwed in to the corner of her mouth. Maker knew how long it had been stuck there. She spoke around it with a thick drawl, eyes half-closed but sharp enough to realise when there was a heavy coin purse or two in their vicinity. The sparkle in those green irises said as much.

Captain Higgis sucked at her teeth once more and nodded her head from side to side, making a show of working the sums. She was leaned against a signpost, so diagonal she looked as though she might topple at any minute.

‘Hmm, no. I don’t think so. I could get twice that for a bunk on my ship.’

‘
Twice?’
Lilain seethed. ‘You’ve got to be jokin’. I could
buy
an airship for a hundred florins.’

Higgis shrugged nonchalantly. ‘Ain’t just about whether it flies, ma’am. It’s about who’s flyin’ it. There ain’t nobody knows the sky better than I do.’

‘I find that hard to believe,’ Lilain scoffed. ‘It’s a pretty big sky.’

‘Believe what you want.’ Higgis smiled and took a step back towards the saloon they had found her in, knocking back whisky as if it was all about to be set alight. ‘Don’t bother me one bit. There’s plenty of other customers need passage to the Empire. Why, you might wait a week for the next chance, what with so little of it available these days.’

Lurker tried his hand at some persuading.

‘Ma’am,’ he began, taking off his hat and stepping forward. Higgis took a contemplative drag of her half-dead cigarette. ‘Tell you what. We call it sixty, and you’ll have an extra helper for this journey.’

Higgis looked down at Lurker’s gloved hands as if the shape and size of them alone might convince her. They seemed to meet her approval. ‘You ever worked an airship before, sir?’

‘Worked on ships aplenty, in my younger days.’

‘You serve in the war?’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

There was an uncomfortable moment as the cigarette was chewed and rolled around tobacco-stained lips. ‘Which side?’ It was a dangerous question. There were some that had never stopped fighting, deep in the darkest reaches of the New Kingdom.

‘The rightful one, ma’am.’ Lurker replied.

Higgis laughed at that, a hoarse chuckle. ‘Fair enough, sir. Good answer. I’ll work you hard, mind. I run a tight ship,’ she explained, eliciting a snort from Lilain. ‘And I expect my passengers to stay out of my crew’s way.’

Lurker bobbed his head. ‘That’s fair to me. If work ain’t hard then it ain’t work.’

Higgis laughed again. ‘I like you, sir. You’ll do just fine. Tower Nine. You got one hour. I leave at four, sharp. And by sharp, I mean razor. You understand?’

‘Absolutely, ma’am.’

‘Be there at quarter-to.’

‘Sharp.’

Higgis flashed more of her stained teeth and sauntered off. ‘You’re catchin’ on quick.’

Lilain waited until the door had slammed shut before she spoke.

‘John Hobble, you smooth talker.’

‘You know me.’

‘Apparently, I don’t.’

Lurker gave his usual shrug. ‘I jus’ know the type. Met more than my fair share in the war. Her sort always likes havin’ someone new beneath ‘em to shout at and order about. Makes ‘em feel big. Besides, we ain’t got much choice, do we?’

‘No, we do not. Nor time.’

It took them the best part of an hour to find Tower Nine, and by the time they arrived, they were skirting around the margin of lateness. Higgis seemed to have a passion for leaning; she was now propped up against a support girder, once again with a cigarette hanging from her lip. Lurker couldn’t tell if it was the same one or a fresh victim, doomed to die of boredom before it turned to ash.

He looked up at the fat lump hanging several hundred feet over their heads, tethered to the ironwork of the tower by thick ropes and a flimsy-looking walkway. ‘It still ain’t natural,’ he muttered, as he eyed the airship’s bulbous nose, painted red like a target, and its fabric and steel flanks—ash grey—sporting a few hollow dents that caught the afternoon light. There were a number of disjointed patches too, old repairs, beaten and riveted into place. That didn’t give Lurker much confidence.

It wasn’t the biggest airship he had ever seen. Probably no more than two hundred yards long from nose to rudder. Built for small cargo runs, no doubt; or a handful of passengers. Its tail fins were also a bright scarlet red, sun-bleached in places. Around them sat the halo of engines, buzzing away to themselves. The grey gondola clinging to its belly was sleek and narrow, tracing the contours of the hull, punctured in seemingly random places by portholes. Red stripes had been painted along the side, no doubt to cover some of the rust.

‘Ain’t natural at all.’

‘I told you to pipe down,’ Lilain chided him. ‘It’s perfectly safe.’

‘Safer than a ship,’ Gunderton added. He had been silent since their friendly chat in the alleyway. They had almost forgot he was there. His hood had been hoisted back up, and he walked with his arms crossed; a trait Lurker had always mistrusted.

‘You’re cuttin’ it fine,’ Higgis remarked as they approached.

‘It wasn’t easy to find,’ said Lilain. She watched Higgis’ gaze wander up to the large steel ‘9’ hanging from the iron tower and then back to her; a condescending glint in her green gaze.

‘Right,’ drawled the captain, before jacking a thumb over her shoulder. ‘No baggage?’

The trio shook their heads. They had all they needed in their pockets and packs.

‘Then follow me.’

Up and up they wound, their boots beating a disjointed rhythm on the spiralling iron steps. Lurker swore he could feel the darned tower quivering in the breeze, which seemed to get stronger every step they climbed.

Through the criss-cross patchwork of the girders, he stared down at Washingtown, spread out below them like an intricate model, cut down the centre by the lazy shimmer of the Potomac. Behind them, the Ivory House sat like a pearl in a green oyster, and Lurker found himself sighing. Even though the solemnity and ceremony of the place hadn’t suited him in the slightest; even though the beds were too soft and made his back itch; even though the city noise kept him awake and made him pine for the stars and silence of the desert, he had found a kind of calm there. It was a calm he hadn’t felt since he’d had a home and a wife, and after the turbulence of the last few months, that was something to be missed. He found himself sniffing deeply, trying to drink in the last scents of the Endless Land before the bloated beast above his head whisked him away from it.

At the peak of the tower, the breeze was refreshingly cold, but it gusted in a way that made Lurker’s leather hands squeak against the iron railings. Lilain seemed to find it all rather amusing.

‘The big bad prospector, afraid of heights,’ she tittered, looking back over her shoulder. Higgis had told them to wait while she went to check on their cabins.

‘I ain’t afraid. I just don’t like it is all. If man was supposed to stand this high, we’d have stilts for legs.’

Gunderton piped up. ‘It’s called technology. Progress.’

‘That’s what I said,’ Lilain chimed in.

Lurker still didn’t trust the man as far as he could throw him, and at that moment he would have happily lobbed him a fair distance.

‘I’ve seen enough strife caused by technology and progress over the years. Don’t mean they’re good things.’

Gunderton didn’t seem to have an answer and Lurker sniffed again, victorious.

Higgis came striding back along the walkway as if she were marching along nothing but a wide street, and not a shaking, spindly arrangement of cables and wooden planks. Lurker could feel himself sweating under his hat, which was constantly trying to escape his head and hurl itself back to earth.